


baby my body constantly betrays me

by gayboris



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: M/M, sad times with boris & theo what else is new, there really is hope though i swear!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-12 23:11:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21234146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayboris/pseuds/gayboris
Summary: sometimes (a lot of the time) it's difficult for theo to work past the complicated feelings about having sex with boris. boris helps him through it.made myself cry writing this one :))





	baby my body constantly betrays me

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "it's only sex" by car seat headrest because that song pretty much illustrates the exact sentiments i wrote about here. let me know what you think!
> 
> mílyy = honey
> 
> my tumblr: borysvolodymyrovych

“Boris.” Theo was shaking, his sweaty hands trembling violently. “Boris, I can’t.”

“Shhh, Potter, shhh, Theo, is alright, just me here with you. Just me.” he wrapped his arms around Theo, held his head close to his chest, and Theo began to sob desperately, snot landing on Boris’s skin.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” Theo spit through the sobs, clutching Boris’s arms.

“I know, Potter, I know.” Boris swallowed the knot in his throat, and just held Theo, stroking the damp hair out of his eyes. Although they’d reunited over a year ago, this happened almost every other time they tried to have sex; Boris would go to grab the lube and come back to find Theo in a fetal position, breathing heavily, eyes unable to meet Boris’s. But still, when Boris dropped back down onto the bed, Theo always reached for him, like a young child grasping for their parent after a nightmare. Even in the apartment they shared together, the fourth bed they’d shared throughout the years, Theo still struggled with accepting the reality of his sexuality. After the pain they’d caused each other in Vegas, Boris refused to fuck him, now, if Theo had had more than 3 drinks. It was still difficult to judge day-to-day when Theo was really, sincerely mentally ready enough to have sex. He could be desperately pushing Boris onto the bed one second and hyperventilating the next. But it was never annoying or disappointing, it wasn’t upsetting, of course outside of the fact that Theo flat-out hated himself for loving Boris. 

They held each other, naked, and Boris cooed and reassured him. Every sob wracked Boris’s own body with pain.

And Boris couldn’t blame him, he’d felt those feelings himself. Thinking of Theo in that time they’d been separated, as he fucked hustlers in hotel rooms in New York with light eyes and dirty blond hair, fighting the urge to just let himself sob into a neck as he came. Breaking down and drinking until he passed out once they left, completely alone, no one to cry to or help him. He’d upheld the belief that he was straight until around age nineteen, then slowly succumbed to this reality, fucking one guy, and then three, and then seven, and on and on. No one knew the way he felt. That was, until he and Theo came back to one another. By that point Theo hadn’t touched another man since Boris, hadn’t even come close, and Boris knew that he had to be strong for him. Those oppressive thoughts were still at the absolute forefront of Theo’s mind when he was with Boris; he hadn’t felt that he had reason to defeat them, using girls to suppress them the way Boris had with Kotku and the few girls after her. Theo also thought so much, so deeply and intensely about every little thing he did and how it would affect people’s perceptions of him, and was still beating himself up over everything with Kitsey.

Still, Boris knew just how Theo felt, and wanted more than anything to be there for him, the way he’d yearned for someone, anyone, to be there for him at age nineteen.

Boris held him until the sobs quieted, then lifted Theo’s face closer to his own, both cheeks in his palms. “You are okay.” he said, voice strong and slightly aggressive, and Theo nodded, sniffling.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” he said, and Boris cradled him again.

“You are okay, my baby. My baby, Theo.” he stroked his hair and held him, relaxing and closing his eyes.

Boris then put on a Leonard Cohen record, leaving the bed for thirty seconds, tops, he always knew the specific album that would return Theo to a state of okay-ness. He walked into the bathroom to glance at their plastic pill organizers, leaning over to make sure that he and Theo had both taken their pills. When he returned, Theo was waiting for him again, breathing heavily, arms outstretched immediately when Boris appeared in the doorway.

“I’m coming, mílyy,” he reassured, lifting the sheets and draping them back around Theo, spooning him. Theo sighed deeply, settling into being held, and Boris felt tears dropping onto the back of his hand.

“Thank you,” Theo said, still shaking slightly.

“Don’t worry, shhhh,” Boris reassured, rubbing his hand back and forth on Theo’s arm. “Just me, just boring old Boris.” he smiled.

He felt Theo smile back, head leaning into Boris, body slowly relaxing out of the worrying rigidity. “I love you.” he sighed.

“I love you, Theo.” Boris returned, brushing the hair on Theo’s forehead aside and planting a small kiss there.

“You’re my favorite person.” Theo muttered. He was half asleep, Boris could tell from the way he slouched into his neck.

“You are mine.” Boris held him tighter than ever.


End file.
